SILAS
The Ramirez dealership is quiet at this hour—after nine, most of the staff gone home, just skeleton crew and Maria herself working late in her office. The showroom floor is eerily empty, luxury vehicles gleaming under fluorescent lights like sleeping predators.
Marcus and Rodriguez secured the perimeter while Chen disabled the security feeds. I don’t want evidence of what’s about to happen here.
Not if it goes the way I think it will.
Maria Ramirez looks up when I push open her office door, her expression shifting from mild annoyance at the interruption to genuine concern when she sees my face.
“Silas.” She stands immediately, her hand not going to her drawer this time. Smart woman. She knows I’m not here to hurt her. “What’s wrong? Is Charles?—”
“Charles is fine.” I close the door behind me, Rodriguez stationing himself outside. “But we have a problem.”
“Sit. Tell me.” She gestures to the chair across from her desk, but I stay standing. Can’t sit. Too much energy, too much rage coursing through my veins.
“Someone used equipment from your dealership to create fake license plates,” I say without preamble. “Those plates were on vehicles used in an attack this afternoon. An attack that put children in danger.”
Maria’s face goes pale. “What? Silas, I swear I didn’t?—”
“I know.” I cut her off. “I’m not here because I think you’re involved. I’m here because someone who works for you is. And I need to know who.”
She sinks back into her chair, her hand going to her chest. “Dios mío. Who was there? Who was attacked?”
“Parker and her boys. Sienna with Jimmy and Lottie. Jace, Cal, Charles, and me.” I watch her face drain of color. “We were at the park playing baseball.”
“The children—” Maria’s voice breaks. “Please tell me?—”
“They’re alive. Scared, traumatized, but alive. No one was physically hurt.” I pull out my phone, showing her the images Cal sent—the fake plates, the manufacturing markers. “But it was close, Maria. Too fucking close. And these plates came from your facility. Probably within the last week.”
Maria’s hand is shaking as she reaches for her desk, steadying herself. “Parker’s boys and Sienna’s kids. Oh God, Evelyn called me earlier and I’ve been so swamped, I haven’t called her back. She must be—” She stops, her professional mask snapping back into place even as I can see tears threatening. “What do you need?”
“The name of who has access to your plate-making equipment.”
“Of course.” She’s already pulling up files on her computer, her fingers flying across the keyboard despite the tremor. “I keep detailed logs of equipment usage. The plate maker is restricted access—only three people have keys.”
“Names.”
“Me, my head mechanic Roberto, and...” She pauses, her expression darkening. “Diego Ruiz. He’s a salesman, but he used to work in the fabrication department before he moved to sales. He kept his access because sometimes we need custom work for high-end clients.”
“Diego Ruiz,” I repeat, committing the name to memory. “Where is he now?”
“Let me check.” She pulls up another screen, scanning. “He’s in the back lot, doing inventory count.” She looks up at me, and I see genuine fury beneath the distress. “If one of my people did this, if they threatened those babies—Silas, Parker is like a niece to me. I helped Evelyn get her out of the city when she was pregnant, gave her money so she could build a life somewhere safe. Those boys—” Her voice cracks. “I’ve never even met them, but they’re family. And Sienna’s children, Charles’s children?—”
“I know.” I keep my voice steady. “Which is why I need to take Diego somewhere private. This can’t happen on your property, Maria. You can’t be connected to what comes next.”
Understanding dawns in her eyes. “Where will you take him?”
“Somewhere remote. Somewhere no one will hear what needs to be heard.” I pull out my phone. “I’ll call Charles, let him know what’s happening. He’ll want to be there.”
“What do you need from me?”
“Diego’s exact location. Any weapons he might have on him. His vehicle information in case he runs.”
Maria pulls up everything immediately, sending the details to my phone. “His car is a silver Honda Civic, parked in the employee lot, spot E-47. He typically carries a knife—switchblade, keeps it in his right pocket. He’s right-handed, average build, some self-defense training from our employee security courses.”
“Good.” I head for the door, then pause. “After we’re gone, you should call Evelyn. She and the others—they’re going to need family around them.”
“I will.” Maria stands. “Silas? When you find out who he was working with, when you know who ordered this?—”
